


all that's left is

by hamssi



Series: i know you bleed too [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Heavy Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Slow Burn, all in mark's pov, markhyuck, norenmin uwu, past lumark/markhei
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-07-29 17:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16269389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamssi/pseuds/hamssi
Summary: The silence hurts more than anything, Mark believes. Sometimes, he sits and listens to the sounds of the world around him rush by him like they’re cars on a highway, and not once has he ever found a sound to be anything more than just noise.Not since Yukhei.





	1. you've got a friend in me

**Author's Note:**

> i tried my best uwu
> 
> (listen to the playlist on spotify [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/1275071751/playlist/4zaSwiZboB9SCcc3gswPQ1?si=KLRm9haVS7iQs7SYfm2mug).)

The silence hurts more than anything, Mark believes. Sometimes, he sits and listens to the sounds of the world around him rush by him like they’re cars on a highway, and not once has he ever found a sound to be anything more than just noise.

 

Not since Yukhei.

 

He quickly decides that that hurts more, a wound so deep into his skin that even the slightest press onto the scab still stung. Silence ties back into his thoughts and for a moment Mark thinks that maybe it’s the lack of sound that hurts instead of the pointless noise. It sounds right, at least.

 

Mark’s throat still aches when he recounts the memories of that night, shrill screams having carved their places in his lungs and leaving imprints of pain that he can’t get rid of. The pain travels to his heart every night, piercing it with what seems to be an alarm clock that goes off with pulsing bouts of torment when he lays down to sleep. But he deserves it anyway; he didn’t save him in time, so what’s a little wound compared to a life?

 

***

 

He wakes with a start, teeth chattering wildly despite the sheen layer of sweat covering the entire expanse of his back, his tattered black shirt clinging to the skin uncomfortably. His surroundings are unfamiliar at first, debris cluttered around his feet and windows boarded up. The only sign of the morning Mark can recognize is the sunlight filtering through cracks between dried wooden planks, kissing the ground near his boots.

 

For a while, he stays there, body propped against the wall behind him as he basks in the silence, eyes shut and relaxed. It’s nice, he decides amidst the howling of the wind outside of the building, rushing against the walls with a fervor that matched the chills resting inside of the room. Winter is near, then. That explains the chattering of his teeth.

 

There’s a clock in a corner of the room that Mark stares at for a little over half an hour, and he briefly wonders if the display is correct; if it’s just about as lost as he is. His thoughts are interrupted by a low growl, and he spends a minute deciding whether it had been his stomach or another one of those undead bodies lingering outside of the room.

 

Mark gets up anyway, limbs heavy as he finally gets himself on his feet, slugging a half empty backpack over his shoulder and picking up the dulling blade he’s been using to defend himself in the past year from the floor. With the armed hand in front of him, he pulls the busted door open a little too slowly, hinges creaking loudly and bringing a wince out of the boy. There’s nothing in sight, though, and he’s glad to say that it had been his stomach making the awful growling noise rather than a blood hungry creature.

 

He isn’t too proud later on when he stops to check his supply and realises that he’s out of food, bag only full of medication and empty canteens. It’s also then when he realises that his throat is scratchy; dry. His eyes sting for a moment, vision blurring with something wet before he’s releasing a shaky breath into the air, zipping up his bag once again.

 

_“You have any water?” Yukhei croaks, beads of sweat decorating his neck like they lived there. At this point, Mark has forgotten what it felt like to not have the sun’s rays beating down on his skin and what it’s like to not have that slick layer there as well._

 

_He shakes the bottle in his hand and listens for any sloshing liquid inside, only to be met with a hollow container, inviting a frown onto his face. “I guess not.”_

 

There’s no need for the memory, but he looks back on it anyway.

 

Mark finds himself in front of what looks like a high school hours later, feet planted onto the sidewalk as he stares at the front of the building. If his math is correct, he was only about two years away from entering high school when the apocalypse started, freshly twelve years old and excited to embark on the new journey of middle school.

 

Little did he know.

 

He shakes his head, finally finding it in him to take a few steps forward, weapon raised high as he approaches the doors and enters the empty building. It looks fairly vacant, no sign of any threats in the area but he stays alert anyway, footsteps inaudible and breaths faint.

 

A voice echoes down one of the hallways as Mark is walking and he freezes completely.

 

“Jisung, hurry!” The voice, to him, sounds like it belongs to a teenager, and it’s coming from where Mark had passed the library only a few minutes ago.

 

“Could you be any louder?” A second voice joins the noise bouncing off of the walls, not much quieter than the first, but the words serve as an attempt to quiet at least one of them down. It omits a chuckle from Mark who makes his way back where he came from.

 

As he turns the corner, he notices then how fast his heart is beating at the thought of seeing people his age again. The notion itself has his footsteps faltering and his pace slowing to one of hesitance and suddenly he’s anxious; afraid. There’s something pulling at his heartstrings, bringing him to a complete stop and then he’s thinking of _him_ again.

 

_“How old are you?”_

 

_“Seventeen, I think. What day is it today?”_

 

_“Me too! But uh,” The stranger, Yukhei, excitedly pulls a book out of his backpack and flips to a bookmarked page before looking back up at Mark, “Today is August 5th, 2017.”_

 

_Mark lets out a weak laugh, amused. It’s good to know that at least someone in this world keeps track of time -- he doesn’t think he has the patience. “Huh,” his gaze extends past the taller boy’s head until it falls on a playground only meters away, a thought popping in his head. “My birthday was three days ago.”_

 

He is snapped out of the scene by a pair of hands tugging at the collar of his worn out shirt, barely taking in the situation at hand before he’s being pushed against the solid wall of the school harshly, a forceful “oof” leaving his mouth at the impact.

 

“Who are you?” The stranger’s voice matches the first one he had heard only moments ago, but it’s laced with a jarring tone and a nasty scowl. There’s a young boy in front of him dressed in equally dingy clothes, a Hello Kitty patterned backpack resting on his shoulders, and a knife in his hand that’s dangerously close to Mark’s neck, but he understands the reason for it.

 

“Mark.”

 

With the saying of his name comes the realisation that he hasn’t spoken in over a month and his throat hurts from the lack of use, but he presses on anyway.

 

“I’m not here to hurt you, I promise, I’m just-” he pauses momentarily to clear his throat but it proves to be the wrong choice and his eyes widen at the knife making its way closer to his skin, and he hurries to finish his thoughts, “I’m here to look for water, I just need water. Food. Something.”

 

The stranger hums, grip still as tight as ever on the collar of Mark’s shirt, and as much as he gets why the boy is being so protective, he hasn’t been able to find a new clothing store in months and he’s run out of good shirts, so he silently prays that the stranger will at least let go of his collar and grab his arm or something. He desperately thinks he’ll be fine without one of those.

 

“Is there anyone here with you? How do I know that you’re trustworthy enough to let go? That you won’t rat u- me out to a little group of yours?”

 

He goes for a straightforward approach, breathing out a stern, “My boyfriend died a month ago and I haven’t seen anyone since.”

 

A silence washes over them, tension dripping from their lips with each heavy breath they take. Mark thinks that maybe he should’ve said something else or at least left out the personal bit, but the stranger seems to take it well, grip loosening on Mark’s shirt considerably.

 

“You touch Jisung, you die,” is all he says before he lets go of Mark completely, taking a few steps back that gives Mark the chance to breathe properly again. The stranger is still holding the knife, and although Mark tells himself not to stare at it too long, the blade shines mockingly with the reflection of the sun bleeding through the windows.

 

Mark doesn’t know a Jisung, but he figures it’s the boy that comes stumbling into the room with a book in his hand and a large backpack in the other, haphazardly trying to shove the novel inside despite the countless other books threatening to spill out. What surprises him more than his sudden appearance is the boy’s fascination with novels, but he doesn’t think much of it until the scary stranger speaks.

 

“Jisung-ah, you need to get rid of some of those,” the voice that the scary stranger uses now is undeniably sweeter than the one he had used with Mark and Mark is unjustly offended.

 

“I know,” Jisung’s voice is quieter than expected, words almost incoherent with the obvious embarrassment painted a shade of pink on his cheeks. “I don’t really want to.” It’s then when he finally notices the new face, startling a bit and dropping a few books on the floor. He winces at the loud sound and looks up to see if it brought any trouble before his gaze falls on Mark again. “Who’s he?”

 

Mark opens his mouth to speak, but the scary stranger beats him to it. “This is Mark. I found him lurking in the halls. He’s leaving after he finds some food.”

 

His mouth falls shut, pressed into a thin line as he holds back the words he had wanted to say in the first place. Scary Stranger says Mark’s name with an accent he vaguely recognizes, but he isn’t sure why he does until he starts hearing a little bit of Yukhei in his last couple of words. Jisung speaks before he can be pulled into another memory.

 

“Well, uh, hello Mark-ssi,” he sees Jisung’s eyes travel to his friend’s whose gaze is sharp and intent before meeting Mark’s again. “If Chenle hyung can trust you, I guess that means I can, too. Can you help me pick up these books?”

 

His body moves on its own accord before he can even think of lifting a single limb, mind too caught up on finally learning Scary Stranger’s name. It sounds foreign, Mark thinks as he picks up several books off of the floor. A little smile tugs at the corners of his lips when he sees a familiar cover; one that he had cherished in his childhood as well, and he suddenly wonders how old Jisung is.

 

“The Amazing Spider-Man, huh? I can’t remember the last time I saw a copy of this.”

 

Jisung snorts, letting Mark admire the cover while taking the other books from his grasp. “Me neither.” He reaches for the comic just as Mark flips it over to read the back, his hand retreating back to his side awkwardly. “I checked this book out in the library the day the apocalypse started but then I lost it while running so, um, here I am a whole seven years later.”

 

“How old were you then? If that’s not too personal to ask.” Chenle gives Mark a dirty look at hearing his question before leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. “Sorry?” Mark adds on out of pure fear of the boy.

 

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry! Hyung is just really mean when he first meets people. I promise he gets way sweeter over time.” He’s about to mention that he won’t be sticking around for long when Jisung beats him to speaking first, pointedly glaring at Chenle before turning to smile shyly at Mark again. “I was nine when everything went real bad,” he mumbles, finally taking the comic away from Mark who passes it on to him once he notices that Jisung’s been waiting, bag open and yet to be zipped.

 

“Ah, so you’re sixteen then? Three years younger than me.”

 

“You’re nineteen?” Chenle speaks for the first time, sounding a little surprised at the fact. Mark isn’t sure why but ignores the thought while the boy stammers. “I thought you were like, my age, or something. You don’t look nineteen at all.”

 

Chenle is frowning, a look that doesn’t seem to belong on his face, so Mark tries to lighten the mood. “Are you not my age?” Being completely honest, Chenle looks like he belongs in the seventh grade but the look that he gets from him is worth the comment.

 

Mark freezes at his last thought, realising that he’s getting too attached to the younger ones in front of him, handing Jisung one last book before hooking his hands on the straps of his backpack and shaking his head at himself. He can’t get attached, no. That only means bad things; a group that’ll leave him behind, a group that he won’t be able to protect, a group that will trust him with their lives. It’s too much of a risk, Mark thinks, and he doesn’t want to have to put himself through something like… like Yukhei again.

 

Chenle’s in the middle of saying something when he sees the look on the oldest boy’s face. “Uh, it’s okay, Mark-ssi. You’re not that old, I was kidding. Two years isn’t a big difference.”

 

“No, it’s not that,” Mark is amused at Chenle’s attempt to console him, but he chooses not to mention it, instead going for the inevitable goodbye before he gets any second thoughts. “I almost forgot why I was here, so it was uh, it was nice meeting you two but I have to go and find some food. Sta-”

 

“Are you saying goodbye already?” Jisung intones, eyebrows creasing in a way that makes Mark unable to look at him for too long. He sounds a bit panicked and Mark can’t bear to think of why. “We’ll just come with you, Mark-ssi! Chenle hyung and I are running out of food, anyway.”

 

“Oh,” Mark doesn’t make much of it, thinking that once they all get what they need, they’ll be able to part ways without any trouble. He pushes away the thought that he’ll miss them.

 

“Yeah, come on, the cafeteria looks like it hasn’t been touched in years. It’s crazy.”

 

Chenle rolls his eyes which causes Mark to crack a smile, “Probably because it really hasn’t been touched in years.” He hums, already making his way down the hallway with Mark and Jisung following him in an instant.  “I wonder why, though. A high school would be the first place I’d go for supplies.”

 

His question is answered when they reach the room and the doors are sprayed over in large red font that reads, ‘DON’T ENTER’, accompanied by bloody handprints smeared across the little window. It’s enough to send chills down Mark’s spine as well as a subtle snort at how cliche the situation is.

 

“Huh. Why didn’t we see that before?” Chenle’s loud voice brings about a bang from the metal doors, followed by a groan that has Jisung jumping in his place. “Crap,” he raises his hand, shiny blade out in front of him again as he watches the doors. “Looks like we’ve got to look someplace else.”

 

They find themselves outside of the school a few minutes later though they have to stop to calm Jisung down just as they exit. He’s breathing heavily, fingers clutching the sleeves of his shirt and eyes trained on the ground as Chenle rubs his back soothingly.

 

“Sorry,” the youngest croaks, barely looking up to make eye contact with Mark once he’s calmed down enough to form coherent sentences. “Usually I can handle myself, but sometimes things scare me enough to send me into these… episodes. They’ve gotten better over the years so it rarely happens but I guess that one got me ‘cause of how close we were.” Jisung looks back down at the ground and Mark watches as Jisung’s eyes follow the faded outline of the school’s logo on the sidewalk. “I think it happens because of what happened early on, when I lost my little group. My older brothers were ripped apart right in front of me, and I was about to be next but I managed to get away somehow.

 

“Since then, I’ve seen lots of people die and it hurts a little more each time. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but the only thing that’s gotten better is my physical reaction to it, even though it still sucks.”

 

Mark stays silent, but he understands where Jisung is coming from, having lost both his brother and his friends early on as well. He sees a little of himself in Jisung, and maybe a little bit of Yukhei in Chenle.

 

(He prays to whatever god is out there that Chenle doesn’t meet the same fate as Yukhei did.)

 

“Jisung’s a bit of an oversharer,” Chenle confesses in a joking tone in order to break the silence, earning a punch in the shoulder from Jisung and successfully ridding of the emotional blanket that had been laid on the three of them.

 

Mark suggests that they head towards the main street, having seen a little town center just up the road when he made his way over here, and then they’re off.

 

The banter they share on the way is painfully natural, and it kills Mark to say that he’s starting to grow used to it because he knows that he _can’t_ , no matter how much he wants to. He can already envision the looks on their faces when he finally has to say farewell; when he finally has to be alone again. The thought alone hurts unexplainably so, and Mark dreads the moment.

 

“Just ‘cause you’re older than me doesn’t mean anything. I’m like, two feet taller than you, Mark-ssi. That’s already an extreme advantage,” Jisung snarls in response to Mark’s teasing. They’ve strayed far from what really started the argument, but Mark can’t complain. He’s enjoying it.

 

Without really thinking, Mark says, “Call me hyung,” and the looks on Jisung and Chenle’s faces are completely worth the words that probably shouldn’t have left his mouth in the first place. They aren’t vocal about it, but Mark can tell that they’re excited to hear him say that just by their following words.

  
“Well, Mark hyung, is that the town center you were talking about?” Chenle points in the direction of the buildings coming to view, a smile still splayed on his face from Mark’s words. Jisung sports a similar smile in between them, hands clutching the straps of his backpack as he stares ahead.

 

Mark nods and quickens his pace, stomach growling with a hunger that he had forgotten long ago. He hopes that they find a place that hasn’t been looted already, but by looks of it, everything had already been scavenged.

 

Jisung and Chenle stop in front of an abandoned toy store, giving each other a look that seems to be something only they would understand before Chenle is stepping up to the door, weapon raised as he pushes it open. Mark winces at the jingling of the bells that echoes throughout the small store, taking a few steps back.

“I’ll go and check the other stores. Uh, yell if you’re in trouble, I guess.” Jisung is the only one who hears him, nodding for the both of them as Chenle ventures further into the toy store.

 

It’s eerily silent for a place like this -- one that would be crowded on the weekdays and even more popular with overlapping conversations and laughter on the weekends. Mark’s a little surprised to not see any of those creatures. Walkers, he likes to call them. He thinks the name fits them perfectly with their staggered footsteps and dirtied clothes.

 

Mark spots an entire supermarket, and he can’t help the feeling of relief that spreads throughout him like a virus. (Ironic.) Taking careful footsteps, he takes his knife from the sheath hooked onto his jeans, wielding it in front of his body as he pries open the dead automatic doors. He briefly remembers being fascinated with those as a child, but the thought is gone as quickly as it arrived when he hears a groan coming from in front of him.

 

His heartbeat speeds up hastily, matching the speed of his footsteps as he lunges forward to drive his blade into the creature’s skull, an ugly squelching noise resounding in the air followed by an even nastier stench. He has to swallow back his gag, blinking a few times to will the unwanted tears away.

 

He takes out a few more walkers in the darkness of it all, hands covered in a sticky layer of blood that reeked of death. Mark holds his breath until he finds a towel somewhere on the ground, wiping the smears and stains on his arm. He wonders when his last shower was.

 

The supermarket is as Mark had expected; shelves bare and broken, dead bodies strewn across the floor, and rotten produce scattered everywhere, but he looks around anyway.

 

Mark only finds something in the snack section where cookie packages and bags of chips are hidden on shelf tops. It’s a bit of a struggle to reach them, and he’s most certain that they’re all expired, but he believes that his immune system can handle anything now. Besides, sickness is inevitable in this world.

 

He gets enough for himself and the two boys back at the toy store, backpack and arms full of crinkling plastic when he exits. They’re loud enough to attract a few staggering bodies, but Mark counters it with a quickened pace of his own, easily outrunning them.

 

As he approaches the small store, however, he hears a loud yelp that sounds awfully like Jisung’s and the crashing of boxes against the floor that leaves Mark dropping everything in an instant to scramble into the store with eyes wide and hands shaky.

 

It’s only when Mark enters that he hears the groans and grunts of the walkers clearly, and before he knows it, he’s sprinting down one of the aisles leading to Jisung’s cries.

 

“Jisung!” Mark hears Chenle shout from his right, and he sees Jisung being cornered yet defending himself, but he’s largely outnumbered and Mark is afraid.

 

He pushes the ball of his foot against the back of one of the walker’s knees, waiting until it’s fallen completely before pushing his blade through the back of its head. It isn’t long until Chenle is joining him with the same amount of brutality towards the undead creatures.

 

A moment later and they’re all down except for one.

 

Chenle finds his voice a moment too late, “Jisung-ah, behind yo-”

 

Jisung whips around to face the decomposing creature, getting tackled and shoved onto the tiles of the toy store and it becomes entirely too much for Mark, a situation all too familiar, as Chenle lets out a scream that pierces Mark’s eardrums.

 

He’s bolting forward in less than a second, mind racing with thoughts that hurt his head, but _no_ , he can’t think about it now, not when Jisung is in trouble.

 

Mark kicks the creature with all his strength, sending it flying back against a shelf and it’s unnerving how easily its bones crack against the metal. He’s on top of it less than a second later, vision blurring as he thrusts his knife square in the middle of its forehead, but he doesn’t flinch at the blood splattering on his arms or the sound of its skull giving in on itself, no. He only flinches when he hears the sound of Chenle letting out a shaky sob. The sound alone gets Mark to finally stand back up.

 

“I thought,” it’s awfully weak for someone as strong as Chenle is, or at least how strong Mark believes him to be.

 

Jisung sounds just as shaky as he sits up, “I’m okay.” He gestures to himself, fingers running over his dirty yet untorn skin. “No bites,” the boy laughs but it lacks any true humor as he looks up at Mark. “All thanks to Mark hyung.”

 

Mark pulls up the younger boy with ease, his own hands trailing across every inch of Jisung’s exposed skin to search for any impurities as he frowns, mumbling, “Be careful, Jisung-ah. That was too close. You know I can’t be here to save you all the time.” The words bring about a frown on Jisung’s face as well, and he’s opening his mouth to speak but Chenle crashes into him before he can utter a single syllable.

“I hate you!” His words almost get lost in Jisung’s chest and Mark thinks he can already see a dark spot forming on the boy’s shirt, but it isn’t so easy to tell with the black fabric. Chenle’s voice is significantly quieter now when he pulls away and looks up at Jisung to say, “Don’t do that again. I- You can’t,” Chenle pauses to take a deep breath and calm himself down. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jisungie.”

 

The moment is awfully intimate and Mark feels like he’s intruding, so he backs away, eyes landing on everywhere but the two younger boys in front of him. He remembers the snacks laying on the ground outside and excuses himself before going back out to get them.

 

The air outside is less stuffy. Mark finds out and takes complete advantage of the fact, sitting outside on the curb. His hands are still shaking and he can’t seem to get his breathing right and he feels like he’s seconds away from emptying his last meal on the street but it’s funny because  he can’t even remember his last meal or the last time he felt safe and nothing feels ri-

 

“Mark hyung?”

 

It’s a little embarrassing how fast he snaps his head up to look at the source of the voice, cheeks warm and head still spinning.

 

“Are you okay?” Chenle steps forward and accidentally steps on a bag of chips, jumping at the loud crinkling sound. He bends down to pick it up and finally notices the pile around him. The boy looks up at Mark, surprised. “Where did you find all this? Is this for Jisung and I?”

 

Mark nods just as Jisung comes out, sporting puffy eyes identical to Chenle’s and shoving what looks like a few small stuffed toys in his backpack. Jisung freezes at the sight of all the food on the ground, eyes shifting back and forth from Mark, Chenle, and the bags a few times before he finally speaks.

 

“That’s a lot.”

 

Mark shrugs, eyeing the way the sun kisses the horizon as he stands up, pulling his backpack over his shoulder again. He should do this now, then. Before they meet any more trouble because of him.

 

“I got as much as I could, so I hope that’s enough for now,” he doesn’t meet their eyes, instead turning to the side. “But I should go. It was really nice meeting you, Chenle and Jisung. Stay safe, okay?” Mark hates how broken the last few words that come out of his mouth sound, but he’s off with a wave.

 

He’s barely made it two steps when there are arms encircling his waist, almost knocking the breath out of him and causing him to cry out.

 

“Don’t go,” the body against his back gives off a warmth that pierces Mark’s heart. It aches, and he wants to say that he can stay, but they’ve already run into too much trouble with him around. “Please, Mark hyung. You… you can’t go. Please don’t go.”

 

Jisung’s voice sounds wet; teary. Mark sighs.

 

“I have to go, Jisung.” The young boy shakes his head and Mark can feel his hair bristling against his nape.

 

“Hyung, you can’t!” His voice is entirely too loud, so Mark shushes him and turns around in the boy’s arms, gripping Jisung’s upper arms and trying to pry his fingers from Mark’s shirt. The action only makes Jisung hold on tighter with a, “No! Stop!”

 

“Jisung-ah,” Mark tries.

 

Chenle butts in, right behind Jisung. He’s looking right at Mark, eyes watery and full of something that Mark had dreaded the presence of in the first place. “You don’t have to go, hyung. What’s stopping you?” Mark almost doesn’t hear him over Jisung sobbing in his chest. It’s a little crazy to think how attached they’ve gotten to him, but it isn’t like he can’t say the same for himself.

 

He thinks about Chenle’s question, lips pressed into a straight line.

 

What _is_ stopping him?

 

His first thought is that he might be a burden to them and it seems right at first, but in the midst of it all, he realises that he’s afraid of losing them. Mark has known them for all of maybe an hour and a half but his heart is unbearably warm and he’s still shaken up from earlier, and those two things alone prove his point. After his family, his brother, and Yukhei, he doesn’t know if he can handle it. Not when they’ve already had such a close encounter.

 

“I promise we can help out,” Jisung speaks into the silence, hiccuping quietly. “You must be so annoyed with us, hyung, and I’m sorry we didn’t follow you to wherever you went. We’ll grow up and we won’t be so childish anymore. I’ll even throw out my books, I prom-”

 

Mark’s arms are still frozen at his side until that point, finally raising to run his fingers through Jisung’s hair. He cracks a smile at the younger’s words before interrupting him, “It’s not that, Jisung. You don’t have to throw out your books. I just,” Mark grimaces at his next words, “I’ve already put you in so much trouble, and I don’t want to do that for you, okay?”

 

Chenle’s crying now too, Mark notices. “You won’t, hyung.” Chenle sounds overly confident about it, but Mark can see just how white his knuckles are from how tight he’s gripping the straps of his backpack. “We were just a little reckless, and you saved us. You saved Jisung! I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren't there and…”

 

“We don’t want you to go,” Jisung continues for the older boy, looking up at Mark. His lashes are clumping together with tears and his cheeks are blotchy and pink. Mark feels something tugging at his heart at the sight of the two crying boys in front of him. He looks away, fingers absentmindedly sifting through the strands on the youngest boy’s head as he thinks.

 

Mark won’t be enough to protect them, and he doesn’t need to go through it to say that with confidence. He knows that every death that has happened in front of him has been because of him--because they died trying to protect him. He’s older now, and he can take care of himself, but he knows that they’ll be better off without him because Mark is unreliable and clumsy, and judging by how Jisung and Chenle carry themselves, they’re better off without him. They won’t want him.

 

Or: they need him.

 

It’s logical, at least. Mark really did save Jisung back in the store, and they’re _young_. He can’t imagine being alone with just the two of them at that age without any older figure around to help them out. Chenle would have been too late to help Jisung, and they’re extremely lucky that Mark has quick reflexes. Mark can protect them. He can be better for them and he won’t let them get hurt, even if it kills him.

 

So Mark says okay.

 

“Okay?” Jisung and Chenle echo, smiles spreading across their faces and Mark swears the tears in their eyes have already dried up.

 

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

 

Mark doesn’t regret saying it, and he hopes he doesn’t have to, because now Chenle is hugging him too, and the warmth that he feels from the both of them is something he’s been missing for a long time.

  
_Welcome home_ , his heart says. Mark smiles.


	2. unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark meets someone new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen to the playlist on spotify [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/1275071751/playlist/4zaSwiZboB9SCcc3gswPQ1?si=KLRm9haVS7iQs7SYfm2mug).

_“Do you play any instruments?”_

 

_Yukhei’s holding a guitar, fingers wrapped around the neck as he hoists it off of the ground. His backpack lays on the floor next to his sitting figure, long forgotten as he strums at the rusty strings._

 

_Mark nods, a little mesmerized at the melodies that Yukhei is playing without any trouble. “Yeah,” he says dumbly, closing his eyes for a moment and getting lost in the music. “Well, I used to. I took piano for a few years, but I don’t know if I remember it anymore.” Upon the confession, he realises just how much he might have forgotten in the past few years._

 

_The other boy merely hums, focused on the fingers pressing against the fretboard before he’s looking up at Mark with a knowing smile. “You want to learn a new one?”_

 

“Hyung?”

 

Mark’s eyes snap open -- though he doesn’t remember closing them in the first place -- and fall upon Jisung and Chenle’s worried faces. He’s a little confused at first, but one look around and Mark is having no trouble remembering where he is.

 

“Sorry,” he apologises, but the two of them are already used to his antics, so they each give him reassuring smiles before continuing to search through the room. His focus falls back to the six-stringed instrument laying in the corner of the room, and for a moment, he thinks that he can hear Yukhei’s voice again.

 

It’s quiet, but it’s there.

 

***

 

They fall into a routine rather quickly, skipping cities by the day.

 

Right now, they’re in Daejeon, three pairs of legs hanging off of the side of the Expo Bridge. Mark has never been here before but he silently wishes that he had as he stares at the lights adorning the cables of the bridge. It would be much prettier to see it all lit up at night, Mark thinks, and if there wasn’t so much blood splattered all over them.

 

Chenle and Jisung are sharing canned peaches, old plastic forks stabbing into the fruit and eager mouths sipping on the sugary juice while Mark dips a filthy finger into the jar of peanut butter he had found in a cabinet.

 

It’s not ideal, but the three of them have smiles lingering on their faces, anyway.

 

“So hyung,” Chenle starts, tongue running over his lips to capture the rest of the sweetness on them, “I didn’t know you could play guitar. That’s so cool! When did you learn?” Jisung is nodding eagerly next to him, hair bouncing with the motions. It’s grown entirely too long in the past few months they’ve spent together, so Mark makes a mental note to pocket the next pair of scissors he finds.

 

Mark gulps down a sudden feeling of sickness as he answers, “Actually, uh. Yukhei taught me, so maybe like, four months ago now.” He knows that it shouldn’t hurt anymore, but every day he spends without the older is another tally on his heart.

 

“Oh.” Chenle looks guilty all of a sudden and Mark hates how affected he is by it. “Sorry. You don’t have to talk about it.”

 

The older boy merely shakes his head, reaching out a hand to ruffle up the strands on Chenle’s head, “It’s okay. I should probably be over it now, anyway.” He laughs when Chenle grumbles, fixing his hair only to have Jisung mess it up again. “I don’t know a lot, but he taught me a few songs one day. I hope that in the future,” Mark pauses, heart racing at the thought of a future, “I can learn more songs. Maybe make some of my own.”

 

In the months they’ve been together, the three of them have barely touched the subject. Mark doesn’t know if he really believes in a future that he mentions, but he’s allowed to have hope.

 

“When things get better,” not if, Mark notices, “I want to get a pet dog and… and I want to live with you guys.” Chenle sounds nervous, eyes falling on everything but Mark’s, who watches the smaller boy intently as he speaks. “I want to finally know what it feels like to be normal; what it feels like to complain about math classes like my hyung did or what it feels like to take my driver’s test. That’s all been taken away from me. From us.”

 

Chenle shoves a spoonful of peaches in his mouth, handing Jisung the can with a little more force than necessary. Jisung’s been quiet but he takes the can anyway, eating the last peach before tossing the can. It’s quiet enough that they hear the clatter of the metal against the road. The silence sends chills down Mark’s spine. It doesn’t sound like before, where the hum of electricity was the silence that they were familiar with -- it sounds emptier.

 

Mark understands, though he’s silent. His high school experience went down the drain when the world began to die, and as much as the people around him complained about it, he would do anything to be able to go through that instead of this. He vaguely remembers his older brother’s complaints about nasty teachers and rude classmates. _Bullies_ , Johnny called them. Mark wonders if those bullies were even on the same scale as walkers, but he realises that he missed the chance to ask that the moment he lost his older brother to them.

 

“We’re almost there,” Jisung finally speaks up, and Mark doesn’t think he can hear a trace of truth in his voice, but he nods anyway.

 

“Yeah,” Chenle sounds unconvinced, too, but the three of them ignore it as they trace the shoreline with glossy eyes.

 

They finally get up around an hour later when Mark announces that they find a place to stay for tonight, standing up from the edge of the bridge with caution. The two younger boys follow suit, fingers sticky with peach juice and sticking uncomfortably to the sleeves of their coats but the complaints remain on the tips of their tongues. After all, they’re lucky to even be alive.

 

_But is that true?_

 

The thought adheres itself to Mark’s mind, following his every step on the cracked concrete of the city and shoving between every positive thought in his brain. It’s something that had been planted into his head in the early days of the apocalypse. Yukhei had tried to help him, but comfort only goes so far in this world.

 

_“What are we waiting for?” Mark’s voice cuts into the silence of the night, accompanied by the rustling of the leaves under their boots._

 

_Yukhei stops in his tracks, looking as confused as ever. “What do you mean?”_

 

_“I mean like,” the younger boy looks down, suddenly embarrassed. It’s a stupid question, he knows, but it doesn’t stop him from being curious. “What are we waiting for? Everything’s gone to shit and it doesn’t look like there’s anything to live for anymore. What are the odds that someone finds a cure or that this disease dies out? It’s just another one of those extinction events. You know, like the ice age. We’re all just going to die.”_

 

_Mark glances up from where he had been previously focused on his laces and Yukhei is frowning. He doesn’t like that look._

 

_“Maybe. Death is inevitable, but it doesn’t have to be now,” Yukhei sounds like he’s having as much trouble saying this as Mark is trying to understand. “Like… just ‘cause the future isn’t looking so great doesn’t mean we should lose all hope. The human race is built on hope. You taste a new food because you hope you’ll like it. The government passes another law with hopes that it’ll benefit the country. I keep you around and hope that you don’t get boring in the near future.” He says the last one with a joking tone, bumping his shoulder against Mark’s._

 

_Mark rolls his eyes at the last one, but he’s smiling nonetheless. “The last one doesn’t even make sense with what you’re trying to say but okay. I guess.”_

 

_Yukhei laughs and the melody of it goes along with the sounds of the forest almost perfectly, weaving through the branches and falling with the leaves. Mark can’t help but hope that he really doesn’t get boring and that Yukhei won’t get rid of him in the near future, because Yukhei makes him feel alive again. Like he isn’t just a breathing body, but he’s himself -- Mark Lee._

 

_He thinks, for a moment, that maybe Yukhei is the reason for the hope instilled in him._

 

“Here,” Mark plants his feet firmly on the ground, looking up at the building in front of him. “We can probably stay here for the night, yeah?” He turns to look at the boys behind him for confirmation, but he’s lost their attention to the trashed street market across the street. Sighing, he readjusts the hat on his head, “Look, let’s get settled in first and then we’ll go over there. Does that sound good?” They’re nodding obediently, lips pressed into straight lines, but Mark can tell that they’re excited. He cracks a smile.

 

Their footsteps echo in the lobby of the building, which Mark quickly discovers is an abandoned hotel. Faint growls can be heard from deeper into the building, prompting Mark to command the boys to keep watch and be careful as they head towards the fear-inducing sounds.

 

They settle into a room on the fourth floor with no trouble, door pushing open easily without the restriction of an electronic lock. Mark sighs in relief to see two beds, shoving his pack into an empty corner of the room before flopping onto the bed nearest to the door, face buried in the sheets. He hears Jisung and Chenle jump into the other bed from the sheets rustling followed by the sound of their quiet voices.

 

Chenle finds a vending machine down the hall when Mark is asleep, and though there’s plenty of food inside of it, Mark still scolds the boy for going off on his own. He feels a little guilty when a tear slips from the corner of Chenle’s eye, but the hug he receives from him is more than enough to put a smile back on his face.

 

“Mark hyung, I think you’re our lucky charm,” Jisung speaks through a mouthful of expired chocolate chip cookies, “We haven’t been this blessed in like, years, but since we bumped into you, I haven’t had an empty stomach.”

 

“We haven’t had a proper meal in a while, though,” Mark points out, running the tip of his tongue over each of his teeth to get the last of the sweet snack.

 

“At least we have food in our stomachs,” Chenle says from the bed, sheets pulled up to his chin. Mark appreciates the input. “Can we go downstairs now? The sun’s still out, hyung, and we have about an hour left until it isn’t.”

 

The oldest of the three nods, sitting up on the bed and swinging his legs over the side, toes pushing inside of his leather boots.

 

The stairs aren’t as tiring as they were when the three of them were heading upstairs, but Mark is still left panting by the time they reach the lobby, hands resting on his knees as he hunches over.

 

“Weak,” Jisung whistles and Chenle laughs from beside him. Mark rolls his eyes and pretends to lunge at the younger ones who squeal quietly. He wonders if this is what it feels like to have younger siblings.

 

Mark listens to the two boys bicker behind him while they walk towards the abandoned street market, hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat. His cheeks are tingling from the cold, wind biting at the tips of his nose and his ears. He used to love the winter, but the lack of heating systems have him hating the season now.

 

What they’re greeted with at the entrance of the street market isn’t beautiful, but it’s enough to have Jisung and Chenle bouncing on their toes as they walk over to the nearest stand. It’s a tourist store, English lettering printed on every shirt reading, “I love SK!” Mark is reminded of New York, but the thought of his old home quickly leads him to Johnny. He doesn’t think he could remember the voice of his older brother now if he tried, so he stops thinking altogether.

 

Chenle is trying on a large sweater with the help of Jisung who guides his arms through the sleeves, fingers poking out the slightest bit once it’s fully on. Mark is sure that the red taint of Jisung’s cheeks isn’t from the cold, and he’s only proven correct when Chenle’s cheeks visibly darken as well.

 

Ten minutes later finds them in another tourist shop with Jisung and Chenle in matching sweaters, and Mark is getting tired of English. His mother tongue has lost his interest at this point, though he can’t deny the aching feeling to speak it once again. Chenle’s playing with a snow globe, fascinated by the sparkles jostling around inside of the glass.

 

“It’s not _that_ cool,” Jisung grumbles when Chenle picks up yet another one, shaking it excitedly.

 

Chenle’s head shoots up, eyes narrowed at the younger, “It is very cool. Thank you.”

 

“I mean, I guess,” Jisung backs away and looks up at Mark who’s sifting through a pile of unused socks, “But I don’t know if hyung will let you keep it. Space is limited, remember?”

 

“Oh.”

 

Chenle moves on quickly, setting the globe down on the display shelf. The sudden action brings a frown to Jisung’s face but it goes unnoticed when Chenle turns to make his way out of the store.

 

There’s a case of water bottles waiting for them outside of the hotel that definitely wasn’t there before and Mark’s whipping out his weapon before he can even think of it. The thought of someone following them is unnerving.

 

“Chenle, get the water and go upstairs with Sung,” Mark orders, voice taking on a tone of authority that has Chenle obeying him immediately, taking the case and tugging Jisung along with him.

 

Mark waits until they’re out of his vision before his attention snaps back to the road ahead of him. He takes a seat on the steps in front of the hotel, knife glistening in the light of the sunset while he waits for an unknown threat to pop out.

 

It doesn’t come. Mark’s still unsure, but with one last glance towards the street, he disappears into the hotel, tense.

 

He finds the younger boys huddled on the bed, worried eyes meeting his own instantly before he’s being surrounded by the warmth of their bodies. Mark can’t deny the sigh of relief that escapes his bitten chapped lips.

 

“Did you see anyone?” Chenle asks, voice muffled against Mark’s chest.

 

Mark shakes his head, “No one. Is the water safe?”

 

One of them shrugs, but he can’t tell which one. “I guess.” It’s Jisung, he finds out. “Not sure what else we can do but drink it. We need it.”

 

Mark doesn’t say anything, but he knows Jisung is right. Whoever left them the water must have a kind heart, he thinks, or maybe they’re using it as bait. But whatever it is, the supply will last them months.

 

They finish a third of a bottle within three hours, throats still aching for more but once Mark screws on the cap and sets it on the desk, no one argues. He’s half asleep when Jisung and Chenle climb into the bed with him, the two of them well aware of the other bed merely two feet away, but he opens his arms in invitation. They accept it.

 

***

 

Fear brings about a nightmare -- a memory more than anything.

 

Mark catches a glimpse of his older brother and tries to yell out, but the boy is gone in an instant, and Mark falls to his knees. The sensation of falling jolts him awake and he gasps for breath in the silence of the hotel room. He’s unbelievably warm for a building lacking proficient heating, so he peels himself away from the two clinging onto him and crawls down the middle of the bed until he reaches the edge. He reaches over to the desk and steals another two gulps of water, hoping that none of them notice in the morning, but the sun peeking through the curtains tells him that it’s already morning. And that maybe they won’t be so mad at him.

 

Mark isn’t sure when he fell back to sleep, but he wakes up at the foot of the bed, curled up in a ball as Jisung shakes him awake. His eyes have a bit of trouble adjusting to the light, but he sees the younger boy staring at him with a smile and an open can of beans in his hand.

 

“Wakey wakey, hyung. Breakfast time,” Jisung tilts his head to the side. His smile is too good for this world, Mark muses and returns the smile halfheartedly as he sits up.

 

There’s a spoon for him in Jisung’s other hand, so he takes it with a quiet ‘thanks’ and digs in, scanning the room for the other boy. He sees Chenle on the other bed with one of Jisung’s comic books propped up on his chest as he snacks on beef jerky from the vending machine. Chenle notices Mark’s eyes on him and shoots the older boy a thumbs up.

 

“Did you eat?” Mark questions, voice accompanied by the scraping of his spoon against the metal can.

 

Jisung nods, “Beef jerky. Tasted kind of nasty.”

 

“Hm.”

 

“We should learn how to plant things,” Chenle adds, setting the book down on his chest before attempting to shoot his wrapper into the trash can across the room. “Like, farming, you know? Maybe we could settle down somewhere and start a little vegetable garden.” It sounds like a good idea in theory, but Mark isn’t sure where and if they could settle.

 

He shrugs anyway, and that’s that.

 

They finish breakfast when the sun is just about in the middle of the sky. Chenle starts complaining about needing to relieve himself, so they get ready to go out again, weapons tucked safely into their waistbands. Mark leads them out into the lobby, the first floor still bare of any undead bodies, other than the ones with the holes in their decomposing heads.

 

Chenle makes a snarky comment about feeling like a dog while he’s doing his business, a block away from the hotel while Jisung and Mark face away, eyes trained on their surroundings. Jisung stifles a laugh in order to refrain from bringing attention to them and Mark cracks a smile. The exchange feels like home.

 

They’re on the first step of the hotel when Mark notices another package sitting in front of the doors, lying amidst shattered glass and blood stains. It’s microwavable ramen this time, unopened and positioned perfectly. Mark picks it up and looks around, heart racing in his chest. He isn’t as panicked as before due to the fact that no threat had come to them the first time, but he’s still nervous, so he beckons the younger boys nearer as they travel up to their room.

 

It becomes a routine with every day they spend in Daejeon, a little care package awaiting their arrival every time they leave the premises.

 

“Why don’t you leave them something? Maybe a little gift in return or a note,” Jisung suggests on their fourth day in the city, playing with a packet of instant potatoes that was left by the stranger.

 

“That’s the best idea you’ve had,” Chenle jokes, snuggling into the sheets. He yelps a moment later when Jisung lands a slap on his thigh, pouting. “I’m kidding, Sungie. You’re a big smarty, baby.”

 

(Jisung blushes and slaps him again.)

 

Mark leaves the stranger two boxes of uncooked pasta along with a note that said something about showing himself, in a kind tone, of course. Mark hopes that he’ll take the note seriously and appear from the shadows, because he’s tired of his own curiosity.

 

The boxes are gone by the time they come back from wandering around again, replaced by a note that read, ‘Soon.’

 

***

 

_“I don’t think you would have enjoyed high school anyway,” Johnny snorts, teeth cracking down on a popcorn kernel._

 

_They’re sitting on a pair of swings, feasting on the snacks they had just found from an unlooted home. Those are rare nowadays, Mark had noticed, so it’s a blessing that they were able to find one._

 

_“Why? It sounds cool and looks cool. Middle school was so boring and I barely even started my first year,” Johnny only shook his head, laughing a bit._

 

_“For starters,” he pushes forward, “high school work was never fun. It was all essays and unnecessary projects you had to work on with people you didn’t really care to see.”_

 

_Mark’s slightly disappointed. “Oh.”_

 

_“Sounds a lot like middle school, huh?”_

 

_“Yeah, I guess, but at least we don’t have to see those people anymore!” Mark exclaims, a little too loud for their liking. Johnny shushes him and Mark shrinks back into the swing. It creaks under his weight._

 

_Johnny tosses the empty bag of popcorn somewhere onto the mulch, “We see the dead versions of them instead. Everyone’s dead, so I’d say it’s worse than before.”_

 

_“We’re not dead,” Mark points out._

 

_The laugh that leaves his older brother’s body is weak, bringing a frown out of Mark. He’s never sounded so weak before._

 

_“Yet.”_

 

***

 

It’s ironic how the earth looks even more beautiful when it’s dying.

 

Nature looks like it thrives on the lack of humans and their technology with clear skies and fresh air. It’s everything they could’ve asked for back in the day, but almost no one is alive to see it anymore. So, as one of Earth’s last inhabitants, Mark decides to admire it while he can.

 

He’s laying on his back, dirty fingernails scratching at the handle of his knife as he stares up at the night sky. It’s overrated, but he’s searching for a shooting star, though he isn’t quite sure what he’d wish for.

 

Mark is about to get up and return to the room when he hears what sounds like the scraping of heels against pavement. It’s heavy and Mark isn’t so surprised to see that the footsteps belong to one of the dead. He sighs and gets on his feet, turning on his heel to make his way through the front doors.

 

A thud echoes down the street, gaining Mark’s attention in less than a second. He whips back around and squints through the darkness only to see someone ripping a knife out of the walker’s head. It’s too dark to tell, but it looks like he’s got more than one in his hand, each with handles small enough to hold multiple at once yet blades long enough to dig deep and kill. Mark shivers and looks back up to study his face, but the stranger is looking back at him.

 

He takes a step back with his own knife in front of him, boots cracking shards of glass under his weight and he’s ready to make a run for it when the stranger opens his mouth to utter a throaty, “Wait.”

 

Even the newcomer looks surprised at how his voice comes out, but Mark isn’t too concerned when he steps forward slowly with that many knives in his hand.

 

He seems to notice the panic on Mark’s face, so he makes a move to shove the blades in a fanny pack resting on his waist, dropping one in the process. Mark’s eyebrows knit themselves together in confusion at the boy’s clumsiness.

 

“Who are you?” Mark finally asks, regripping the handle on his weapon as he tries not to let the hesitation seep through his words.

 

The clumsy stranger looks up after zipping his fanny pack closed and he holds his hands up in the air with wide eyes, “The food. Water. I’ve been leaving them, it’s- that’s me. You asked me to show myself.”

 

“You?”

 

He nods hastily, shaggy black hair bouncing, “Me. My name is Jeno.”

 

One word answers aren’t his thing, and he hates hearing them from other people but Mark isn’t sure what else to say except, “Why?”

 

“I don’t know,” Jeno shrugs but backtracks, “Well, I guess it’s because there’s one of me and three of you, so you need it more.”

 

“You’ve been watching us?” Mark wonders if Jeno is telling the truth about being alone or if it’s a luring tactic. For all he knew, the boy was a cannibal and Mark was just taking the bait and leading Jisung and Chenle to their own demise.

 

Jeno grimaces at the words, “Kind of, but I would never hurt you.”

 

“Why should I believe yo-”

 

“Jesus,” the newcomer breathes out, “You ask a lot of questions. I wouldn’t have come here if I knew I was walking right into an interrogation. Were you a police officer in your past life?”

 

Mark doesn’t think Jeno’s too bad of a guy, but he could never be too careful so he’s up in the boy’s face in less than a second. “I said,” he emphasises the second word, “Why should I believe you?”

 

“I don’t know!” Jeno closes his eyes and makes no move to reach for the weapons in his pack and instead raises his hands up even higher. “I don’t know. You don’t have to believe me. I just... wanted to do something nice for people and you guys looked nice so I decided that maybe I can give up what I’ve been saving for myself and help others for once, you know? If you don’t believe me, that’s okay, but just _please_ don’t hurt me.”

 

Mark drops a bit of the tough guy act and gives the boy some space to breathe, “I won’t hurt you, I promise. Just a little protective over the others.”

 

“I sure hope you don’t,” Jeno remarks, a little breathless from the mild attack.

 

“Thank you, by the way,” Mark scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, feeling a little sorry for being harsh. “We appreciate it a lot.”

 

Jeno shrugs again and doesn’t say anything for a little, avoiding Mark’s eyes at all costs. Mark thinks that he looks a little out of place in this situation; a little scared. He doesn’t look like one who gets nervous easily, but it isn’t fair to judge by appearance in times like this.

 

“I’m Mark,” he offers along with a hand.

 

Jeno finally looks at Mark, eyes shifting from Mark’s outstretched hand and Mark’s face a few times before he’s hesitantly placing his own hand into the space between them, “You already know my name,” he jokes poorly.

 

Mark doesn’t know if it’s a good idea, but he goes for it anyway.  


“Want to meet the others?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't as good as i wanted it to be and i'm actually really sorry that donghyuck hasn't showed up yet but !!! he's coming i promise uwu
> 
> also let me know if there are any errors cause i'm bad at editing sladkfjs

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/heartsungs) !!


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